Late Night Musings
Other than my husband’s snoring and the sound of our AC unit it’s quiet in my house. The little people passed out watching a terrible movie and I stayed up doing something I don’t often do August through July – watching TV. It’s Memorial Day weekend and we are all excitedly waiting the last day of the school year. And as I always do when chapters close – I get melancholy about things that were and contemplate things to come.
This time last year my husband and I were grateful that my son had survived his first year of PreK. He had a rough year and there was a point in which my child was called special and it was suggested that he be put on a behavior plan – he was 4. I cried buckets of tears, got hurt and annoyed with friends who couldn’t truly understand it from my point-of-view, and even contemplated quitting my full-time job to home school him. And now – here we are. He had a fantastic year in PreK-4 and has been accepted to his sister’s school for kindergarten. There’s still an inkling of worry because well, my son is a lot for some people. In a lot of ways, he’s so much like me. He’ll talk to a wall, hug a stranger, but has a ridiculous amount of compassion. He also has a very smart mouth for a 5 year old and does not handle his emotions well when he’s tired, angry, or hungry, and picks up the most random ideas and concepts with ease, like his dad (which is actually a good thing).
And then there’s my girl. She blew me away and asked to play soccer and fell in love with it. I was in shock because like me, she doesn’t like heat or sweating. But I admire her bravery and her desire to get in there and play – and those long legs come in handy. But I worry about her too. I worry that she’s painfully shy sometimes, like my husband. And that she’ll be labeled ‘too emotional’ like I was. I worry that because she’ll most likely be the tallest and biggest girl in her class (I’m absolutely jealous because I’ve always wanted to be tall) that she’ll be made fun of and be bullied. But I also see a confidence in her that I didn’t have at that age and a desire to be exactly who she is – and I love it.
I’m sure all of these things seem like the random musings of a mother who’s up way too late, but they aren’t. You see – I watch my kids. I watch what they do, what they say, how they react. I listen, not all the time, not always as hard as I should, but I try in earnest. Because I’m seeing how quickly time is passing and I’m seeing how easy it is to overlook the things that can make or break them. The fears, the worries, the hang-ups, that can grow and fester. And I pray. I pray that they know this is home, that they know whoever they are, whatever they become, we’ll love them. I pray that they understand God for themselves and that they learn to lean on Him early because we aren’t always going to be around and even when we are that their hope lies in Him. And I pray that every thing I am, every thing I’ve been through, helps me to help them be better.
Until next time….